Today is the winter solstice, the shortest day of the next 366 (2016 is a Leap Year, remember, adding one more day to the mix!). What a lovely idea, that today is short, a time for reflection and withdrawing and healing, and that every one of the coming 366 days will be a little bit longer than the one before it.
Today I celebrate healing and medicine, friends and honesty, timely candor and pain. Today I remember I am besotted with this lovely earth, and how un-weary she is of our shortcomings and antics. Today I remember love and life and breath. Today I celebrate joys and sorrows alike. Today I remember what I vowed a little over a month ago, about ten seconds after receiving a medical diagnosis serious enough to stop my personal time: that, in every single moment—no exceptions—there is always at least one lurking joy; and that I will, for as long as I am allowed to breathe here, search for and locate and celebrate the joys. No matter what. Ever. And until.
Today I fall, arms wide, into this winter solstice, the shortest day I shall be graced with on this planet for the next 366: a clarion call to enjoy each moment, if ever there were one. I wish you great joys on this day.